Name: Ayumi Hamasaki (浜崎あゆみ)
Age: 37
Gender: Female
Occupation: (retired Geisha) worker in weaving factory
Appearance: short, small, rare beauty
Location: Hiroshima, Japan
Personality/Quirks/Unique Personality Traits: feminine, obedient, passive, plays shamisen, dance
Family: husband(47), older son(21), son(19), daughter(4)
Education: trained from an early age to be a Geisha
Languages you speak: Japanese, English
Your main concerns at this time and in life: about her two sons in military, husband's social life
Weaving Factory
Diary Entry #1
March 23, 1937
3:00a.m.
Ayameko was sleeping peacefully next to me. As always, she had kicked off the bed sheets in sleep. Making sure that I’m not making any noise, I once again tucked her up and slipped out of bed.
I got up early at daybreak, dragging my worn-out body from much weaving yesterday. My back ached and my fingers were numb from the eight hours of work. However, I put myself to work to pack bento for my sons. Today is the “tuesday” that I have been looking forward to visiting both of my sons, Jun and Takeshi, in Kwantung Army. I read it in the newspaper that Japan is going to a war against China, and today, might be the last time seeing them. Last time, they managed to return to Japan from establishing Manchuko, but the success this time is not guaranteed. The shabby bento started to look dim through tears.
I observed my gnarled hands under the yellow light in the kitchen; the tips were blunt and the surface was coarse from the labor. When these hands were sleek, I used to hide them under the garments of kimono before I plucked the three strings of Shamisen with the pointy fingers. Ah-! How smooth the garments of kimono were. If I could wear them just one more time and observe myself on the mirror with everyone’s awe upon my elegant figure. The beauty that seemed to be eternal was disappearing in front of my eyes; day by day, I find a new crease around my eyes. If my husband had not lost his position as an military officer 15 years ago during the financial crisis, I would have preserved the beauty that can amaze the entire Kyoto men. If the family is not suffering from poverty, both sons would not have to risk their lives as Imperial army’s soldiers.
My husband has not yet returned home. I’m guessing that he is again sleeping out in a bar, rubbing down Geishas. I am scared of him returning home tonight. In a drunken stupor, he will break and throw everything and start beating Ayameko and me. He should be the one apologizing to the family and in charge of arranging things right again. I’m sorry for my daughter, Ayameko, who will have to grow up in this unfortunate surroundings. It was certainly my mistake to go to bed with him that night. I should not have married him when he betted 100 thousand yen for me.
Then, I heard the front door open. He is here.
New Kimono
Diary Entry #2
November 7, 1941
2:00 a.m.
I still imagine Jun walking through the front door saying, “Mom, I’m back!” flashing a huge smile across his face and proving me that the letter from the army was just a prank. On August 2nd, in the year of 1937, I received a letter from the Imperial Army, informing me the loss of my older son, Jun Yamamoto. I do not exactly remember how I reacted after reading the letter, because all I remember is myself waking up from a bed with worried faced. Ayameko told me that I have been lapsed into a coma for a week. Now Jun’s death became null, as if tender pain has been hardened into a fossil, deep inside my heart. I do not have any more tears to drain for his death. Takeshi told me that Jun died in an attempt to shield him from a grenade explosion. If he had returned himself, instead of the letter, he would have gotten my compliment for saving Takeshi. I shed tears from the already dried lachrymal gland in mute.
As if consoling the loss of the oldest son, the military has reinstated my husband as a military official. Having his authority back, he returned to his original position. My husband told me that I no longer had to work in the weaving factories; instead I should stay home and regain my vigor; my body has been wasted away to a degree that I needed external support when walking. He bought me the most fine kimono I’ve ever seen. On the mirror, I thought I saw myself fifteen years ago; it was as if my beauty had returned from the past. After my husband reinstatement, my life started to change. I wore different kinds of kimonos and served guests visiting my husband; I returned to a housewife.
Couple of days ago, Matsui Iwane visited our place to have a private conversation about military tactics with my husband. When I went to reception room to serve them green tea, I unintentionally eavesdropped their conversation. The tray slipped from my hands, the teacups broke and the hot tea was spilled over the floor and my feet were burned. Fear encroached me; I crouched down, covered my ears and began to shiver. My husband, surprised by the noise, came out and found me squat down in front of the door. He immediately took me to the hospital. I was diagnosed with panic disorder.
Japan is planning to attack United States during next month. Matsui Iwane and my husband both were involved in it. They were both under Admiral Yamamoto and thought that Japan did not have any chance to defeat United States in war. I am now afraid of losing my husband. Diary Entry #3
The Mushroom Cloud
August 14, 1945
11:00 p.m.
I looked sideways and saw Haruhi Fujioka, sitting in the corner of the room looking blanck; she wasn’t able to accept her children’s deaths. I did not wake up for last three days, hoping that this is no more than a gruesome nightmare. However, the mental and physical pain from the core of my body did not go away. As I struggled to become unbound from the agony, it hooked deeper and aggravated the wound. The ugly burn on my skin became scarlet letter representing the anguish from World War II.
Can we receive salvation from God if we go back in time? The Japanese expansion against the colonial powers annoyed United States, and our action of bombing Pearl Harbor backfired us. The victories in the war against European powers brought us the fathomless despondency. The “victory” against the British that my son shouted with sweat and blood stained face in Hong Kong, invited catastrophes in my hometown and Nagasaki. I shed two different tears; the tears of delight from my son’s safe return to home were replaced by agony of the death in Hiroshima.
On the day, I was walking slowly towards the hospital, and my mind was on Ayameko, because tomorrow was her eleventh birthday. Just then, I thought the sun was sinking on us. There was a sudden flash of light, and I squat myself away from the source covering up my face. Every other part of the body exposed felt as if it was burning and the light seemed to penetrate every cell of my brain. Then, I slowly turned around and open my eyes towards the direction of the light; I saw the mushroom cloud rising from the area near my house. In a split second, my body was thrown around on the street like a ball. Then, my head banged hard on the floor and the scene blacked out.
When I opened my eyes again, I was unable to move as if every joint of my body was severed. I could not believe the scene that lay before my eyes; it was the vision of hell. There were naked corpses piled up on the street next to the burning houses. I was just lying there speechless looking around because the street that I used to strut along seemed unfamiliar with familiar faces lying...
The Burn
Diary Entry #4
August 15, 1945
1:00a.m.
The nurse had just came and went to change my diaper and apply ointment to the distributed burn on my face and body. The stunningly beautiful face of Ayumi Hamasaki was melted and twisted into an unrecognizable figure. I was paralyzed from the waist down when my body collided against the ground. The humiliation when my genitals were touched and cared by an external hand was unbearable.
My body became dysfunctional; it was not able to support itself, and I was no longer a flower that was attracted men.
I lost everything: myself, house, and most importantly family. My daughter was inside the house when the explosion occurred. I begged one of the Japanese soldiers, if he could look for my daughter. Before he started the search, he told me that my daughter did not have much of hope, because our house was only about 1 km away from the explosion. They ransacked the residue and ashes of the house to find at least my daughter’s corpse, but she was not found. On 6th August 1945, at her age 11, she was returned to carbon. She was gone even before she experienced the world. I haven’t received any letter from Takeshi for more than two years. I received a telegraph from my husband that he was immediately coming to Hiroshima from Okinawa. The D-day is today, and I do not want to see his disappointed face when he sees me.
Just then, on the radio I heard Hirohito’s voice. The radio address must be Gyokuon-hoso, Jewel Voice
Hiroshima
Broadcast.
“Our sincere desire to ensure Japan’s self-preservation and the stabilization of East Asia... Moreover, the enemy has begun to employ a new and most cruel bomb, the power of which to do damage is, indeed, incalculable, taking the toll of many innocent lives...”
Then, I just turned off the radio when he mentioned about Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The low audio quality made it hard to comprehend the message that he was delivering to the nation. Moreover, I was not concerned about our surrender.
My life is over, and I no longer have a reason to continue my life. The pain that I was enduring everyday is worse than death. Now I think is the time to part from the world.
Age: 37
Gender: Female
Occupation: (retired Geisha) worker in weaving factory
Appearance: short, small, rare beauty
Location: Hiroshima, Japan
Personality/Quirks/Unique Personality Traits: feminine, obedient, passive, plays shamisen, dance
Family: husband(47), older son(21), son(19), daughter(4)
Education: trained from an early age to be a Geisha
Languages you speak: Japanese, English
Your main concerns at this time and in life: about her two sons in military, husband's social life
March 23, 1937
3:00a.m.
Ayameko was sleeping peacefully next to me. As always, she had kicked off the bed sheets in sleep. Making sure that I’m not making any noise, I once again tucked her up and slipped out of bed.
I got up early at daybreak, dragging my worn-out body from much weaving yesterday. My back ached and my fingers were numb from the eight hours of work. However, I put myself to work to pack bento for my sons. Today is the “tuesday” that I have been looking forward to visiting both of my sons, Jun and Takeshi, in Kwantung Army. I read it in the newspaper that Japan is going to a war against China, and today, might be the last time seeing them. Last time, they managed to return to Japan from establishing Manchuko, but the success this time is not guaranteed. The shabby bento started to look dim through tears.
I observed my gnarled hands under the yellow light in the kitchen; the tips were blunt and the surface was coarse from the labor. When these hands were sleek, I used to hide them under the garments of kimono before I plucked the three strings of Shamisen with the pointy fingers. Ah-! How smooth the garments of kimono were. If I could wear them just one more time and observe myself on the mirror with everyone’s awe upon my elegant figure. The beauty that seemed to be eternal was disappearing in front of my eyes; day by day, I find a new crease around my eyes. If my husband had not lost his position as an military officer 15 years ago during the financial crisis, I would have preserved the beauty that can amaze the entire Kyoto men. If the family is not suffering from poverty, both sons would not have to risk their lives as Imperial army’s soldiers.
My husband has not yet returned home. I’m guessing that he is again sleeping out in a bar, rubbing down Geishas. I am scared of him returning home tonight. In a drunken stupor, he will break and throw everything and start beating Ayameko and me. He should be the one apologizing to the family and in charge of arranging things right again. I’m sorry for my daughter, Ayameko, who will have to grow up in this unfortunate surroundings. It was certainly my mistake to go to bed with him that night. I should not have married him when he betted 100 thousand yen for me.
Then, I heard the front door open. He is here.
November 7, 1941
2:00 a.m.
I still imagine Jun walking through the front door saying, “Mom, I’m back!” flashing a huge smile across his face and proving me that the letter from the army was just a prank. On August 2nd, in the year of 1937, I received a letter from the Imperial Army, informing me the loss of my older son, Jun Yamamoto. I do not exactly remember how I reacted after reading the letter, because all I remember is myself waking up from a bed with worried faced. Ayameko told me that I have been lapsed into a coma for a week. Now Jun’s death became null, as if tender pain has been hardened into a fossil, deep inside my heart. I do not have any more tears to drain for his death. Takeshi told me that Jun died in an attempt to shield him from a grenade explosion. If he had returned himself, instead of the letter, he would have gotten my compliment for saving Takeshi. I shed tears from the already dried lachrymal gland in mute.
As if consoling the loss of the oldest son, the military has reinstated my husband as a military official. Having his authority back, he returned to his original position. My husband told me that I no longer had to work in the weaving factories; instead I should stay home and regain my vigor; my body has been wasted away to a degree that I needed external support when walking. He bought me the most fine kimono I’ve ever seen. On the mirror, I thought I saw myself fifteen years ago; it was as if my beauty had returned from the past. After my husband reinstatement, my life started to change. I wore different kinds of kimonos and served guests visiting my husband; I returned to a housewife.
Couple of days ago, Matsui Iwane visited our place to have a private conversation about military tactics with my husband. When I went to reception room to serve them green tea, I unintentionally eavesdropped their conversation. The tray slipped from my hands, the teacups broke and the hot tea was spilled over the floor and my feet were burned. Fear encroached me; I crouched down, covered my ears and began to shiver. My husband, surprised by the noise, came out and found me squat down in front of the door. He immediately took me to the hospital. I was diagnosed with panic disorder.
Japan is planning to attack United States during next month. Matsui Iwane and my husband both were involved in it. They were both under Admiral Yamamoto and thought that Japan did not have any chance to defeat United States in war. I am now afraid of losing my husband.
Diary Entry #3
11:00 p.m.
I looked sideways and saw Haruhi Fujioka, sitting in the corner of the room looking blanck; she wasn’t able to accept her children’s deaths. I did not wake up for last three days, hoping that this is no more than a gruesome nightmare. However, the mental and physical pain from the core of my body did not go away. As I struggled to become unbound from the agony, it hooked deeper and aggravated the wound. The ugly burn on my skin became scarlet letter representing the anguish from World War II.
Can we receive salvation from God if we go back in time? The Japanese expansion against the colonial powers annoyed United States, and our action of bombing Pearl Harbor backfired us. The victories in the war against European powers brought us the fathomless despondency. The “victory” against the British that my son shouted with sweat and blood stained face in Hong Kong, invited catastrophes in my hometown and Nagasaki. I shed two different tears; the tears of delight from my son’s safe return to home were replaced by agony of the death in Hiroshima.
On the day, I was walking slowly towards the hospital, and my mind was on Ayameko, because tomorrow was her eleventh birthday. Just then, I thought the sun was sinking on us. There was a sudden flash of light, and I squat myself away from the source covering up my face. Every other part of the body exposed felt as if it was burning and the light seemed to penetrate every cell of my brain. Then, I slowly turned around and open my eyes towards the direction of the light; I saw the mushroom cloud rising from the area near my house. In a split second, my body was thrown around on the street like a ball. Then, my head banged hard on the floor and the scene blacked out.
When I opened my eyes again, I was unable to move as if every joint of my body was severed. I could not believe the scene that lay before my eyes; it was the vision of hell. There were naked corpses piled up on the street next to the burning houses. I was just lying there speechless looking around because the street that I used to strut along seemed unfamiliar with familiar faces lying...
August 15, 1945
1:00a.m.
The nurse had just came and went to change my diaper and apply ointment to the distributed burn on my face and body. The stunningly beautiful face of Ayumi Hamasaki was melted and twisted into an unrecognizable figure. I was paralyzed from the waist down when my body collided against the ground. The humiliation when my genitals were touched and cared by an external hand was unbearable.
My body became dysfunctional; it was not able to support itself, and I was no longer a flower that was attracted men.
I lost everything: myself, house, and most importantly family. My daughter was inside the house when the explosion occurred. I begged one of the Japanese soldiers, if he could look for my daughter. Before he started the search, he told me that my daughter did not have much of hope, because our house was only about 1 km away from the explosion. They ransacked the residue and ashes of the house to find at least my daughter’s corpse, but she was not found. On 6th August 1945, at her age 11, she was returned to carbon. She was gone even before she experienced the world. I haven’t received any letter from Takeshi for more than two years. I received a telegraph from my husband that he was immediately coming to Hiroshima from Okinawa. The D-day is today, and I do not want to see his disappointed face when he sees me.
Just then, on the radio I heard Hirohito’s voice. The radio address must be Gyokuon-hoso, Jewel Voice
“Our sincere desire to ensure Japan’s self-preservation and the stabilization of East Asia... Moreover, the enemy has begun to employ a new and most cruel bomb, the power of which to do damage is, indeed, incalculable, taking the toll of many innocent lives...”
Then, I just turned off the radio when he mentioned about Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The low audio quality made it hard to comprehend the message that he was delivering to the nation. Moreover, I was not concerned about our surrender.
My life is over, and I no longer have a reason to continue my life. The pain that I was enduring everyday is worse than death. Now I think is the time to part from the world.
Farewell Diary.
Sayonara-!